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I see spring in winter,
my rage melts into tears,
my soul wings upward,
coils down to the fire and snake
in the earth’s core.
My eyes pet my cat, posing on the window sill
like she thinks she’s the sphinx, purring
without reason, her silence the riddle without question.
In my bed my woman is in me more than I am in her.
My friends far away are my fathers and sons.
My skin feels the air I’m in.
My eyes touch sky, and sky me. Outside:
space without time. I walk inside
an impressionistic painting, but in 3D,
as far as I can see, a world of dots and light
the same as what I’m made of.
Photo Credit: ashton [CC-BY-2.0] via Wikimedia Commons